


Maybe I'm Crazy

by Jeromvalska



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Death, GCPD, Jerome Valeska is the Joker, Jerome is nice, Kinda, Mood Swings, Murder, Probably not though, Stockholm Syndrome, Theo is a Little Shit, but not a psychopath, harleen has a good life ish, harleen is a cheerleader, jerome is mean, maybe smut??, rich people, she's a little weird, theo galavan is a snake, until she meets jerome, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-25 23:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18173042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeromvalska/pseuds/Jeromvalska
Summary: When cheerleader, Harleen Quinzel meets the Infamous Jerome Valeska, it will change her life forever.





	1. 1.0

I sat on the school bus, listening to my music through my earbuds. I got pretty annoyed by the other cheerleaders, I could barely hear my music with there loud cheering.

The bus came to an abrupt stop, catching my attention. I looked over the seats and took out my earbuds. I flinched when a gunshot went off, killing the bus driver. "Hello there, Ladies- and gentlemen." The guy said. He had red hair, and he was really pale, and I could tell with one look, the kid liked to smile. He looked around my age, which was weird for him to be so young.

Some other guys chained us down to the bus, while the ginger rambled on. "I would like you all to know, this was a very difficult decision for us. It was between you and a senor citizen bingo party," I wasn't really listening until he shot the roof.

"I said gimme an O." He said seriously. "O." The other girls whimpered.

"Give me and N."

"N."

"Give me another O." He was handed a hose, and I had a hunch what it was. The girls said "O."

"What does that spell? Oh no." He smiled, spraying us all with gasoline as he walked down spraying us all individually. When he came to me, I glared at him, he kept his smile and sprayed my face, making me scoff. He went up to the front of the bus, still spraying kids, when I yelled, "Asshole!"

He turned around, keeping a sadistic smile on his face. "What was that?" He said, bending down to eye level. "What, are you deaf? I said you're and asshole." 

He laughed than sat right next to me. He ran a hand through his red hair and checked his breath like he was getting ready for a date. "What's your name dollface?" He said. I scoffed and looked the other direction.

He put the gun to my jaw. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but that stupid bitch put a gun to my head and I'm not supposed to die.

"Harleen. Harleen Quinzel." His dark smile turned into a more playful one. "Harleen Quinzel? That's a stupid name." He said. "Ha. Ha." I deadpanned. "I don't like it, I think I'll call you Harley Quinn." I didn't reply and just glared at him. 

"You know I have to say, I do love my women when they look as though they’re about to kill me." He pointed out, which made me scrunch up my nose in disgust. 

"Well, it's been a pleasure, Harley Quinn, but we're kinda on a time limit." He said getting up and leaving the bus, but not before running a hand through his hair and giving me a wink on his way out, and against my better judgement, made me blush.

The second they all got off, I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair. I began to jiggle with the locks. I finally unlocked the cuffs when they were in a shoot out with the police.

I got up and was halfway off the bus when I realized I was just leaving everyone else behind. They looked at me with pleading eyes, but I shrugged it off and tried to run past the redhead guy, but failed. He grabbed my wrist and put the gun to my head. "Perfect timing , dollface. How'd you get out the cuffs?"

I scoffed. "You ever hear of picking a lock?" He just laughed.

"Let her go, Jerome!" The detective yelled. So that's his name. Jerome smiled. "Sorry, Dollface." He said. I furrowed my eyebrows before I felt a sharp pain on my head, then it went dark.


	2. 1.1

I woke up right in the same place I was knocked out. The Detective from before was in view. What happened?

Oh right, I was almost killed, twice.

I sat up and instantly regretted it. I felt the pain on the back of my head where Jerome hit me. Asshole. "Are you alright?" The Detective asked. "Define 'alright'." I said. I stood up. "How long was I out?" I asked. "Just for a couple minutes. What's your name?" He asked.

"Harleen Quinzel." I said. He nodded. "We're gonna need you to come down to the station." He said. "Yeah, sure." I said, not really paying attention, I was more focused on, well, everything else.

*****

I sat in the interrogation room feeling pretty awkward in the silence. They hadn't come in yet to question me. I was still in my gasoline-soaked cheerleading uniform, and I was still covered in gasoline too. My makeup was probably ruined, but I didn't care to much, I just wanted a shower.

My mind went back to the bus. I just left everyone in there to die and I honestly didn't care, what I cared about was if they were gonna hate me or think I had something to do with those loonies tryna kill us.

The Detective, who I learned was the infamous Jim Gordon, came into the room.

"So what happened, start from why you were on that bus." He said. I nodded. He'd figured out that I didn't go to school there and I was a college student. "We were sent with the High school to cheer with the high schoolers." He nodded.

"We were on the bus, when it just stopped, when they came on the bus and started spraying us, so I called him an asshole." I said, then he looked at me weirdly.

"What?" I asked, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "Nothing, continue."

"So he sat next to me, asked my name, when I didn't answer, he put a gun to my head and made me tell him." I left out how he called me Harley Quinn. "And when he left, I picked the lock and ran out, and you know the rest."

There was a silence. He was putting pieces together. "Why didn't he shoot you? He had you right there."

"I guess I'm just that charming." I said sarcastically. "I don't know and how the hell should I?"

"Well, you are studying criminal psychology."

"Yeah, for a month."

The truth is I did have a guess on why he didn't shoot me, but I didn't share that with the detective. I took those classes, not to learn, I already knew everything I needed to, but I can't get a job with just my word. "You think I had something to do with this?" I scoffed.

"No." He said. He was telling the truth, I could tell. He just needs a lead, this is a hard case. He sighed. "Do you think Jerome will try and contact you?" He asked me. I scoffed. "Doubt it."

"Well here's my number if anything happens, you can never be too careful." He said. "Of course." 

"I'll get a patrol car to drive back to your dorm. " He said standing up, I stood up as well. "Don't bother, I have to visit my ma this weekend anyway, and knowing her she's probably gonna pick me up."

I was right.

My ma showed up and gave a big hug, that I really didn't want. "Oh, my gosh, ma, let me go!" I said. "Sorry, I'm just so glad your alive." She seemed like a concerned mother, but about one second later, she looked at me with disapproval.

"Harleen Francis Quinzel, what did I say about that ridiculous accent in public." I rolled my eyes as she dragged me out the precinct.


	3. 1.2

"I stopped by campus and brought some clothes home for you." My mom said as we entered the house. "You went to my college?" I asked in disbelief. She is so embarrassing.

"Are you alright?" She asked me, but before I could even reply she bombarded me with more questions like, 'what were you thinking', and 'how's college' and 'why do you have to try and be the hero'.

"Mom!" I yelled, making her stop. "I appreciate your concern, really. You are not taken for granted, but I am fine. I really just need a shower."

She sighed. "Of course, I'll make up some dinner."

I went upstairs to my room to grab a change of clothes, when I spotted a note with a rose next to it right on my desk.

I unfolded it too see:

_I had fun today, Harley Quinn._

-J

The note fell out of my grip and fell onto the floor. My breath hitched.

How did he find me already?

He was here. In my room. I thought of calling the detective, but I didn't. It probably was nothing. I lifted the rose and smelled it's sweet scent. My heart fluttered for a second, before I remembered a criminal psychopath gave it to me. I set the rose down and left.

*****

I returned to my room, to see the rose and the note still there, right where I left them. I sighed and picked up the note off the floor and picked up the rose off my desk and put the both in a drawer. I didn't want my family to come in and see that.

I smiled at the photo of my old friends from elementary school, thinking of all the stupid things we did together. I shook it off and left.

I came down stairs to see my mother setting the table and- my brother was here.

I sighed. Not because I hated him or anything, he was actually pretty cool, sure he could be an ass, but he mostly left me alone. I was annoyed because I knew he was here because of what happened. My mom called him over.

I didn't want my mother to make this a big deal, but I guess I shouldn't expect other wise.

"What are you doing here?" I asked bluntly. "Can't I visit my family?" Isaac replied. I gave him a deadpanned look to show I was not amused. "Yeah, you just happened to visit the family when my life is threatened by a teenage criminal." I said sarcastically.

"Y'know, this may shock you, but not everything is about you." He said. I faked a surprised expression. "I now, scary right." He said. I laughed and rolled my eyes.

I sat at the table, next to my father. My brother directly across from me, and my mother sitting next to Isaac.

"I made the homemade macaroni, your gran's recipe, your favorite." My mom said. I smiled softly. "Thanks Ma." I didn't want her to think I was being ungrateful. I know I'm very lucky to have a mother who cares, but she could be so pushy sometimes.

My parents stared at me, like they expected me to be crying my eyes out. "Could you stop staring at me, please?" I said. "I'm tryna eat."

They looked away. "Harleen, I was thinking tomorrow we could find you a dress, for the children's hospital gala." My mother said. I groaned. "We're still going to that?"

"Your mother was very excited to go." My father said. "Please, Harleen. Do it for me." My mother begged. "Ugh, fine." I said. She smiled.

"Is Isaac going?" I asked. "No." Isaac said. "Um, yes, you are." My father insisted. "If I'm going, Isaac's going." I said.

"Fine then dad has to come." Isaac said. I laughed quietly. Misery really does loves company. "No, I don't have to go." My dad said, then looked at my mom for reassurance.

"Yes you do." She said, making me and Isaac laugh at my father's bad luck. My dad looked so disappointed. "This is great." I smiled. "Shut up." My dad said shamefully.


	4. 1.3

Dress: https://em.wattpad.com/77710f4eaf5d8ef375b50dfe892ede7bf6532ba4/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f566b4a436c687136785a4c3431673d3d2d3730323233353036302e313538383565623765616231616535313332333130363634303235302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280

I felt like I was three years old and at my Aunt Margie's wedding again. My hair was pulled into a high bun and I had white silk gloves.

I hated this.

I hated everything about this.

I stood awkwardly while my family socialized. My parents were talking to some people I didn't care for, and Isaac, being Isaac, was flirting with a girl. I rolled my eyes and scanned the room for something to catch my attention. 

"Harleen," My mom said while approaching me. "You should socialize." I didn't say anything and glared.

"Have you texted James?" She asked. I furrowed my eyebrows. Who?

Oh crap.

James is my boyfriend, one my mother set up. He decided he was rich, so college wasn't important. Idiot.

"Um, no." I said. I though my mother was going to melt me with her disapproving glare, but her warm smile never faltered. "Well that's fine, because he's here."

My face dropped.

No please, no.

James came into vision.

Ugh, why?

I really didn't feel like dealing with this this weekend.

I faked a smile. "Hi." I said awkwardly.

I wanted to leave, now.

We sat down, ready for the magician. James had his arm around me. I tried to squirm out of it without him noticing, but it was impossible.

"Can you believe they're making us watch a magic show, what are we? Five?" James said, trying to sound like an adult.

"I love magic tricks." I said without thinking. He looked at me weird, at first I thought it was because of what I said, but then I realized I let my accent slip.

I shifted my weight and avoided eye contact.

I hated this.

Maybe Jerome should've killed me.

With my morbid humor, I laughed slightly at the thought. I earned a look from my family. "Sorry." I mumbled.

"Greatings Ladies and Germs, I am indeed the Great Rudolpho!" The Magician said. I looked up and my whole body froze.

No, this isn't happening.

"Please ogle my lovely assistant."

"Harleen," My mom scolded. I began to clap.

No this isn't happening.

Jerome, pretending to be the magician, made a rose appear. He faked looking over the crowd, deciding who to give it to. When his eyes landed on me, a smile spread across his face.

He bent down and handed it to me. Then gave a wink and continued what he was doing.

"What was that?" James asked jealously. "No clue." I lied, looking at the rose.

_Harleen, say something! There is a criminal pretending to be a magician._

I couldn't bring myself to say anything, or even leave the room.

 _Say something!_  I internally screamed at myself.

What is he even doing here?

What is he after?

"By the way, nobody here is getting out alive." Jerome said with a smile. Everyone laughed, thinking it was a joke, everyone except me of course.

His smiled never faltered as he threw a knife into a man's chest. The room fell silent. All you could hear was the gasp from the guest. Then five seconds later, gunshots went off and chaos swept through.

I didn't bother getting up. I knew it was no use. He had us trapped.

The hired muscle came over and dragged me away from the table. I tried to fight out of his grip, but it was no use, until he put a hand over my mouth. I didn't hesitate to bite down and hard as I could.

"Dammit!" He exclaimed, letting me go. "The bitch bit me!"

"Oh poor baby, do you want a band aid?" The female pretending to be Jerome's assistant, Barbara, said.

Jerome walked over to me, his fake beard and hat gone. I stood my ground, trying to show I wasn't afraid of him.

He stopped, with his face a little too close to mine. "No funny business, that's my job." He said seriously. He then grabbed my arm and took me to the stage.

He tied my hands as I glared at him. "You gotta thing for tying girls up?" I snarled, remembering to hide my accent. "Only you." He smiled.

"Charming." I said dryly. I sighed and glanced at my family. "They don't know you." Jerome said. I scoffed. "And what? You do?"

"Mm-hm. You proved that to me when I left that little note in your room." I looked at him, guilt flashing over me. Jerome got closer. "You could've called your pal detective Gordon, but you didn't, did you?"

I scowled. "A decision I'm starting to regret."

Jerome laughed, amused, and looked at the audience to feed his ego. "They're gonna kill you, y'know. They're gonna kill you and no one will care. Not one person will try and help you." I said, trying to get on his nerves as much as he got on mine. "You will die, all alone, and then everyone here will move on with their miserable little lives."

Jerome laughed, amused. "Was that an accent I heard?" He smiled bright. Out of routine, my face dropped in shame. "Oh, no, don't hide it." He looked me directly in my eyes and smiled even bigger. "I love it."

"Get your hands off of her." A voice I recognized as James spoke up. I looked towards the ceiling in annoyance.

Jerome's smiled didn't falter as he turned around. "What are you doing?" I growled at James. He didn't say anything and tried to keep a brave face on.

"Who the hell are you?" Jerome asked. "I'm her boyfriend." He said confidently. I groaned and rolled my eyes. "She doesn't seem too interested." Jerome said.

Suddenly, Jerome pulled out a gun and put it right between James's eyes. "Jerome, don't!"

He turned around to face me and got extremely close again. "I'm kinda doing you a favor here, gorgeous."

"Don't kill him." I said quietly. "Admit it." He said, getting closer, if that was possible. I knew exactly what he wanted me to say.

"You're clearly not interested in him, so admit it." He pressured. He got even  _closer_. "Say it." He whispered in my hear, a chill ran down my spine. What the hell is happening to me?

"Harley, say it." He growled, his lips gently touching me. "Fine! I'm not interested!" I yelled. "I don't like him, in fact I find him repulsive, but that doesn't mean I want him dead!"

Jerome smiled in victory. James looked so confused, and I didn't really care. "Fine, we'll make it fair." Jerome said.

He took all the bullets out the gun, except one.

Oh no.

Jerome motioned for the goons to hold James down.

Jerome cocked the gun. A sadistic smile grew. He pulled the trigger and...

Bang!

James was dead.

I gasped and stared at the body. Jerome sighed, then laughed. "That was fun."

"Jerome." Barbara said, the tossed a phone at him, then smirked. "Time to call our friend."

*****

Jerome continued to torment everyone here. Played a few sadistic games, and now had a knife to Bruce Wayne's throat.

"I don't have clean shot!" Jim, who had managed to sneak in, yelled. "Stay calm Bruce." The butler said.

Jerome laughed. "Seems like we got ourselves a pickle. What do ya say Brucey - Boy, wanna boost our ratings?" Jerome laughed even more as he slowly cut into Bruce's skin.

"I said enough."

Before I knew what was happening, Theo Galavan had put a knife in Jerome's throat.

I was close enough to hear what he was saying and listened while I tried to slip my hands free. "I know, I know, this is not what we rehearsed. I'm so sorry Jerome, you have a real talent, but now you see the plot thickens, enter the hero."

Wait- Theo broke out Jerome?

I managed to get my hands free and I ran towards Jerome's body, and pushed Theo aside. I looked down at him, not really sure what to do.

How the hell could I save someone who was stabbed in the throat?

I put my hand on the wound, desperately trying to stop the bleeding, like that would help. Jerome attempted a laugh.

"Oh, Harley Quinn." He said as I watched that light leave his eyes. My breath got caught in my throat as the panic settled in.

He was dead.


	5. 1.4

Dark room. 

I was in a Dark room. It looked like a cell, but I wasn't in prison, was I? 

I didn't bother screaming for help, or for making threats. I knew it would do me no good. I had a hunch who had taken me. The man who broke Jerome Valeska out of Arkham doesn't want me spilling then beans. 

So I'm staying here.

They haven't killed me yet, so they think I'm useful. 

Or maybe they like their prey alive. 

It was cold. There was a blanket, a small, itchy, and thin blanket, but still a blanket after all. I didn't want to touch it though, despite how deathly cold I felt. 

I didn't trust anything here. As far as I'm concerned, it could be a bomb. 

I knew in the back of my head, it wasn't a bomb and I was being ridiculous, but paranoia's a bitch. 

I refused to move from my spot. My muscles began to ache from staying in the same position, but I felt as though my feet would be cut off if I tried to move them. 

Everyday, I think? It's not like there's a clock in here. A couple times a day, they'd open the hatch, throw some food of their choice, shut the hatch, then they won't come back for another couple hours. 

I felt like I was losing my mind. Is this what solitary confinement is like? Why would anyone wish this much torture on someone? Hell, I'd wish they'd torture me. I wish they'd give me any sort of attention. 

Anything, I'll take it. 

One of the days, maybe my third day here, a woman came in. She had dark skin, long black hair and leather black outfit. 

She looked at me like I was a brand new toy for her to play with. She never actually did anything to bad, she just like to watch me. 

She never came back in. 

I guess I was boring. Or maybe she was told to leave me alone, which was very unlikely. 

I began to hum songs I could remember, to distract me from all the nothingness. I tried to smile. I tried to laugh, but I would always end up laughing and crying at the same time. I figured to myself that wasn't healthy, so I stopped trying that. 

I grasped onto my sanity. It was the only thing I really had with me, and I wouldn't let them take it from me. 

I knew deep down, if I did ever come out I'd be different, that was inevitable, but I won't loose my shit. 

I won't. 


	6. 1.5

Days and Days. 

It feels like forever. 

How old am I? Has my birthday passed since I've been here? Did the police forget about me? 

Thankfully days went by a little quicker when they moved my location. 

I was in a different-looking cell. 

There was a bed. The door was an open gate. If I put my face between the bars, I could see long hallways of more cells just like mine. 

There was a change of clothes. More like pajamas. They were white and heavy, but I didn't mind. They were so comfy compared to what I had been wearing. 

The new surroundings gave me something new to focus my attention on. I didn't bother trying to escape. I knew Theo Galavan wasn't that stupid. 

Theo killed him. He killed Jerome. It hurt a bit. I wasn't quite sure why, so I blamed it on spending so much time alone in that cell. It messes with your head no matter how much you try and fight it. 

I tried to find reasons why his death hurt. 

Something to focus on. 

Maybe he understood me. Maybe he cute. Psychopath or not, I can't lie, he was cute. 

One day, someone new came. My eyes widen when I saw it was Bruce Wayne. Damn these people had guts. 

Did I want him to know I'm here too? What good would that do? He's in the same situation as myself. Instead I'll just sit here. I'll sit here trying to find ways to distract myself from the world around me. 

I try not to think. Thinking leads to paranoia, anger, fear. And those lead to insanity. I have to fight the urge to wonder. Wonder about anything really. Wonder if anyone cares. Wonder if I am going to be killed. Wonder if they're laughing at me. Wonder if I have been forgotten. 

I can daydream. Daydream about being back in my bed. Daydream about Harry Potter riding down on a rainbow unicorn and lifting me off to sky. Daydream about the police saving me and everyone living a happily ever after. Daydream about what my life would be like if I were a cat. Daydream about anything really, no matter how odd. 

Daydreams are nice. Anything can happen in a day dream. You can bend the world to your will. You can create a story. Add some heartbreak, but it's okay because it will all work out in the end. But only if you want it to. Maybe you want a depressing story. More depressing than your own to help you forget where you are. 

But my creativity has run dry. I have thought of a thousand different scenarios twice, and I can't focus anymore. Too much work. To much thinking. Daydreams seem to come when you're more relaxed, I've noticed, so just relax. Don't work so much. Don't think so much. 

"Hello?" I heard, who I assumed as Bruce, say from the room next to my own. I must've been making small noises. I opened my mouth to speak, but I have seemed to lost my voice. So I stood on my bed and looked through the tiny window between us, placing my hands on the bars. 

He saw me. I cocked my head to the side. I felt like I was gonna pass out. Too much movement. He was so... real. I wasn't dreaming. I couldn't seem to form words, and it was then I realized I haven't spoken since I was taken. 

"H-How lo-ong has it been?" I asked, finally getting a hold on my voice. My voice seemed unrecognizable. It was like I was hearing it for the first time. Maybe I was. I hadn't ever payed to much attention to my own voice. I had lightly hummed songs, but I hadn't spoken a word since my time being kidnapped. 

How would he know how long it's been? He probably had no clue who you were. I also could've worded it a bit better, but Hey! We win some, we lose some. 

Something in his eyes clicked. "You're Harleen Quinzel." He stated. Am I? I don't feel like Harleen Quinzel. I feel like... someone else.

"You're Bruce Wayne." I stated. "It's uh, been two months." He said.

Two months? It feels like waaayy longer than that.

"Why are you here?" I ask him. He looks away. "They're going to kill me." He said calmly, taking a seat on the bed. "Why?" I ask.

"They believe the Wayne's took away their family legacy, and they believes killing me will justify it." He said. Seriously? This has whole thing has been about a family feud? "So he's batshit." I said. "I suppose." He said.

Damn, what a buzzkill.

This is boring, and kinda awkward. I'm not really sure what to say. What is there to say? We're stuck, and he's going to die, and I'm most likely next.

"I can't imagine what it's been like for you." He said, without looking up.

What has it been like? 

All my days feel blurry. Being locked in the same room everyday, doing the same things really gets to your brain. The only thing I remember clearly is the day they moved me."Pretty agonizing." I scoff. I wasn't lying. It's sucks.

"They don't do anything to me. They leave me here to drown in my paranoia. They don't talk to me. I get no torture, entertainment, not even a newspaper." I say. "Y'know for a guy that knows you're about die, you don't seem to care." I point out, trying to change the topic. Before he could reply, our conversation was interrupted by some blonde girl who walked in, and I decided it was time to leave the two kids alone.


	7. 1.6

Freedom. 

I'm not sure how I feel about it. 

It's s bright outside compared to the places I had been. 

Too much noise. 

Too many questions. 

Too loud. 

Too many things happening at once. 

I saw my mother. She was there. She was smiling and crying. She was too touchy. She hugged me, fixed my hair, hugged me again. The police had to tell her to let me go so they could ask questions. 

Quiet. 

The room was quiet. 

Just how I wanted it. 

Silence is interrupted when a woman comes in. I recognize her. She fixed my wounds after the bus incident. 

Dr. Thompkins, I remember she told me to call her Lee. She isn't a detective. They sent her in because they're cautious of me. 

"Hello, Harleen. I'm Leslie, but you can call me Lee." She said, sitting down in the chair across from me. "We've met before. Do you remember?" She asked me. I nodded and she smiled slightly. 

"I'm going to get straight to the point. Can you tell me who kidnapped you?" She asked, her eyes exploring me for any clues of trauma. 

"Theo." I said. Her eyes widened. "Theo Galavan?" 

I nodded. "You saw him?" She asked again. I decided to lie. "Yes." I said softly. 

Lee looked back at the mirror, then back at me. "Can you tell me what happened?" She asked me. Why is she still here? I told her who kidnapped me. 

"When?" I asked. 

"Let's start with the night you were taken." She said, choosing her words carefully, like the wrong ones would break me. 

I took a deep breath. "I walked in, the lights were off. I turned and saw my mom was gone, then I was taken from behind." I said. 

"Then what?"

"I woke up in a dark room. I saw him, then I never saw him again." I knew it would suck for if Theo was not put in prison, so I changed that lady I saw with him. I know he kidnapped me, even if I didn't see his face. 

"They left you there?" 

"They fed me, but that's it. A while ago they moved me to a different room, where I was found." I said. Lee looked at my with sympathy. 

I looked her dead in the eyes holding nothing back. I could tell it was kinda creeping her out, but maybe I wanted her to creep her out. I have nothing to hide anymore. Deep down I want her to see exactly how I'm feeling without having to say it because I simply can't find the words. 

I want to go home. I think to myself. I want a shower. Just think of laying on my soft mattress, snuggling into my fluffy blanket. 

Ugh I wanna go home. 

"How are you feeling?" Lee asked me. I shrugged, still looking her in the eyes. "I don't know." I said with my voice shaking slightly. 

Lee looked away from me for a moment. "They found a note in room, could you tell me about it?" 

I cocked my head. "Note?" 

"From Jerome Valeska?" She said to me like saying his name would set off a bomb. "What about it?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" She asked me. I furrowed my eyebrows. Tell anyone? Why would I tell anyone. Why are they asking me this? Why didn't I tell anyone? I can't remember. 

She sighed, stood up and left the room.


End file.
